


To Preen

by Yuletide (Zebra)



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:04:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebra/pseuds/Yuletide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's after the final battle and Diaval is determined to take care fo his Mistrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Preen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kolamity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kolamity/gifts).



Diaval could be happier.

But the he supposed he was happy enough to be alive, the rest could be sorted out later. Really, it was only about the state of his feathers. He needed a good preening, a good preening that he had postponed, because he certainly wouldn’t pass up the chance to preen his Mistress. And there was a lot of his Mistress to preen.

Seeing her wings had nearly blown him away, he certainly had nearly fried a few more unfortunate soldiers when Maleficent’s wings rejoined her. 

Not least of all due to the dull sorry state they were in. They had certainly not been cared for and the newly added glass shards had been the least of it. It had taken some fast talking and nearly becoming a mealy worm twice, but after the hatchling had been settled and her new guards intimidated enough that better no hair be askew on Maleficent’s Beastie come morning, she had finally relented.

So that was how they were back in the Moors. Maleficent had splashed about in a clear pool, trying to get the worst of the dust, dirty and shards out. But finally there came a point when all the splashing had no effect anymore and a hand was needed.

Or rather a beak. 

Diaval had puffed his chest when she had lain down on the shore and spread her wings so he could have easy access to them. That his Mistress trusted him with her newly returned wings was a gift of highest order.

If only his chest puffing hadn’t resulted in a dust cloud of his own, but then he had been too distracted by watching his Mistress and those large wings of hers to take care of himself. 

Later he told himself, once his Mistress’s wings were shining again. He made great headway anyway. The first wing done, the second nearing completion. Although he was a bit cross he had to do everything himself, she could have helped a bit, certainly she could have done the front. He wondered who did her wings before she lost them.

He wondered if Stefan ever had preened her.

“Diaval!”

He squawked in apology, that had been a bit too hard, the feather was still securely seated. But not the little fluff next to it. It came out with the slightest tug and he threw it to the side. In the beginning he had carefully sat each feather, each down aside, intend of making himself a nest of them later. There had been so many of them, that he finally given that up. It wouldn’t matter if a few feathers got damaged, there were enough to line at least ten nests. 

He had developed a certainly rhythm. Starting at the underside of the wing first, he worked at the wing arm, tugging out loose feathers and downs, picking out moths and who knew what else. That done he grabbed each of her flight feathers firmly between is beak and hop-shuffled down to their ends. The formerly rumbled and disarrayed feathers springing back into form. He didn’t know how long he had been at it, but he supposed that soon they’d have to be up again and go back to take care of their hatchling.

While Diaval had worked hard to get his Mistress’s wings back to a presentable state, Maleficent had dozed. At least Diaval was sure that’s what she would later claim. Pointing out the suspiciously snoring-like noises she had made while dozing would probably net him a day as a starlet.

The last part of her wing lay before him, the part where it joined her body. She had been wide awake and tense for that on her other wing and she was certainly awake and tense on this one as well. He could feel the muscles of her wings twitching and vibrating underneath him. But she didn’t say a thing and so Diaval went about it with the same decisive swiftness he had used on the rest of her wing. She could shoo him off if she minded too much. And he could tell her later that not even a scar remained. There was not even the slightest hint that her wings had ever been anything but attached to her body.

A last tug, a last downy feather coming lose. 

And then he was thrown off as Maleficent sat up. He squawked indignantly, a squawk that cut short when she shifted him into a man.

Crouching next to her they looked at each other. 

She looked different, with her hair down and her wings up. She looked softer, less anger and guilt in her eyes. He would make sure neither anger nor guilt would have reason to return to her eyes.

“Thank you, Diaval.”

He certainly could puff his chest as a man, too.

“How could I let my Mistress walk around with less than perfect wings? They’d all say what a bad raven I was that I could not even keep a pair of feathers neat.”

She lifted and eyebrow and smirked at him.

“I suppose that must be so dreadful a prospect that you put them even before your beautiful self.”

Drawing himself up to his full human height – there were definitely some advantages to being a human – he declared with great offense: “I always put you before everything else.”

The smirk went up a notch, she was rather playful today.

“Just not as a wolf.”

“Just not as a dirty, flea bitten mongrel.”

“Well, well, I’ll take a flight around the Moors. That should give you enough time to take care of yourself before we go to make sure those humans are treating our Beastie right.”

The moment she sprang into the air she transformed him, leaving him to tumble in the turbulence her mighty wings made to lift her up.

He was tempted to fly after her, but then he’d surely have to go meet the hatchling all dusty and dirty. 

With great diligence he cleaned and preened till he was gleaming so much his black feathers appeared white where the light reflected off them.

Suddenly he found himself not staring at black wings, but at black-clad arms.

“Diaval, you’d better be done. I’m not going to wait for you.”

He turned around.

There stood his Mistress in a stream of light falling between the tress, great wings gleaming. He felt blinded by the vision. Such beauty, and he would be allowed to fly with her.

She was surly the greatest jewel in his life. All other ravens wouldn’t be able but to envy him to be allowed at her side.

“Are you done staring, Diaval? We told them we’d be back shortly after sunrise. I’m sure they’ll try to convince her that I am truly maleficent.” 

She turned away from him.

“Once they lay an eye on you, they won’t call you Maleficent. They’ll call you Magnificent.”

For a moment he wondered whether he should have said that, but after a moment of silence she turned around and gave him a gentle smile. She was close enough to nudge him with a wing.

“Such a charmer. You are only after my wings.”

She might be able to joke about that, but he was outraged.

“Mistress, I’m not only after your wings. I’m after all ...”

He crumbled.

“Go on, Diaval. What are you after?”

He was like a deer caught in the eyes of the wolf he never wanted to be again.

“Shouldn’t we be on our way? Wouldn’t want the Beastie to hear any maleficent words.”

“Very well, I’ll let you off the hook for now. But we’ll revisit that topic, soon. Now, we should arrive in style.”

Mentally preparing himself to become her black steed again, he was surprised to find himself with wings once again and a top view of his Mistress.

He had to thank her for that choice later. The dragon certainly was much more like his raven-stylishness.


End file.
